mudcub (mudcub) wrote,
mudcub
mudcub

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Fuck

2007 was the year I stopped loving my boyfriend. That's a loaded word: "love". Sure, I still love him, but now it's in a different way.

To recap:

  • I met my boyfriend in 1994. I was 24, he was 48. We met in a leather sex dungeon, so I can't really complain that my partner is vanilla, or that he doesn't like kinky sex.
  • But after a few years of the relationship, the sex died out. I turned to jacking off by myself, and flirting with guys on the internet.
  • Even now, every night, I still get my partner off. I play with his nipples and dick while he jacks off. But I have no desire for his to reciprocate.
  • I don't know why I don't what my partner to touch me. It could be that I'm not physically attracted to me. Or it could be a weird slave mentality where I don't think I'm worthy of pleasure in return. Or it could be a childish method to punish him. Or a passive-aggressive attempt to end the relationship. I've got a bunch more reasons, but none of them seem to fully explain the situation.
  • I'm not sure why my partner accepts this arrangement, but I know why I stick around. I love the guy.
  • I told my partner two years ago that monogamy wasn't working for me. He said he'd "think about it". Nothing happened.
  • My boyfriend said that he would leave me if I ever cheated on him.
  • I started cheating on my boyfriend in 2007. There was a leather top who would do horrible, wonderful things to me every Wednesday afternoon. Plus, he is emotionally distant, so I knew we'd never start a relationship. It worked pretty good for about three months.
  • In a comedic turn of events, the entire Denver leather community found about my infidelity when I hit "reply all" to an email, instead of replying to a personal email to that leather top. Oops.
  • Lots of fighting with the the boyfriend. Man, I didn't know I could cry so much. My boyfriend and I would talk and fight and cry for hours every night, It got to the point where I would dread coming home after work, because I knew that a long emotionally draining talk would ensue. Hours of agony every night.
  • So that's how I stopped loving my boyfriend. Enough pain, and eventually I didn't give a shit anymore if he left or not.


Please keep in mind that the above chronology is mine, and that you're only hearing half of the story. My boyfriend might disagree. For example, I remember trying to convince him to open the relationship for a year before I started cheating on him. He remembers things differently. Did we fight before I found out I was screwing around? I think so... but now I'm not sure. Maybe I'm just a bad person, and was unfaithful before I tried working things out. I like to think that I tried to talk to him before things turned to shit.

I want an open relationship where I share *all* the details of my infidelities. For example, if my partner goes out and gets a "little strange" I want to know how long it was, and what they did. What positions were attempted. What fluids were shot in what places. I don't have any jealousy... I'm happy for him to get laid. For example, about three months ago, my partner found a boy of his own. I'd say that we have a polyamorous threesome, but the new boy doesn't seem to like me very much. The new boy wants monogamy, and is waiting around for the primary relationship to break up. But I couldn't be happier that the two of them are fucking like crazy. At least someone in the house is getting some.

I think I expected my partner to eat shit and smile. I wanted him to book an afternoon session for me with a bondage master, pack me lunch, and send me off with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. It turns out that he is nowhere near ready for that level of unemotion. Instead, we have a "don't ask don't tell" sort of detente, where I arrange secret meetings with various Denver men, and cover it up with stories about how I'm working late. Recent business trips out of town have been a great cover. Man, I really hate this arrangement, but I really like the sex. I've got to meet some wonderful men this year, and I really treasure some of the friendships I've made. However, I'm not sure how long this lifestyle can last. It's exhausting trying to find hours in the day for taking care of my boyfriend, as well as booking time for a trick.

In a way I'm happy for this turn of events. I think in my twenties, I had a rather co-dependent form of love for my partner. I was his boy, and I did a lot of things that I didn't like so I could pretend to have a perfect gay relationship. I went to a lot of boutiques, I did a lot of antiquing and shopping. Cocktail parties and brunches. I bought a big beautiful house and filled it with pretty things - none of which I wanted. Hey, don't feel too bad for me... there were trips to Spain and France and dining out and lots and lots of cuddling. But now, I have more of a relationship with my boyfriend as equals. I don't feel like I am subordinate to him anymore, and that's good at the same time it's a little said.

I feel like I've moved on, but I'm still stuck with this old life. I'm tired of the gay scene. I'm tired of small talk, of frilly shirts, and beer busts. I'm tired of living 90% of my life where nobody really cares where I am or what I'm doing. I want to go out and get a little dirty and muddy. I've got a head full of new hobbies and a shitload of new kinky fantasies. No of which my old partner shares with me. I'm kind of on a personal journey of discovery, and the biggest problem is that first adjective... it's "personal". I can't really bring my boyfriend along with me on the trip. But at the same time, I love the guy to death, and I don't want to break up over some illusion.

Fuck.
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